


My Sunshine

by A_Single_Drop_of_Winter



Series: The Woe of the Womb [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Baby Peter Parker, Best Friends, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Family, Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Loss of Parent(s), Mother-Son Relationship, Not Beta Read, extra hurt, still no beta reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 04:24:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17891420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Single_Drop_of_Winter/pseuds/A_Single_Drop_of_Winter
Summary: May and Mary were childhood best friends. May and Mary married into the same family and became family. Mary and Richard had a son. Mary and Richard died and left Peter Parker to be raised by his Aunt May and Uncle Ben.But before that, they had to attend the funeral.May, Ben, and Peter Parker have all lost parts of their family. They mourn at the graves of the deceased Mary and Richard Parker. May comes to grips with the past and looks towards the future: Peter.





	My Sunshine

It was warm out.

Perhaps that was an odd fact to focus on, but for the past few days, there had been nothing but rain. Today, today though: sun. May thought it was fitting; weather to match Mary‘s bright and sunny disposition.

Peter buried his little dark head into May’s shoulder; she could feel wetness seep into her skin: tears. Her little nephew was crying. Some part of May wanted to soothe him, yet she still wanted to continue to gaze into the sun until it glazed her eyes the same way Mary’s had been. Empty and completely devoid of their warm honey glow; glazed as dark as the dirt Mary now lay under. So May reached a compromise; she tilted her chin down, but kept her eyes up. Reaching out a hand so gentle that it could only have been made to carry the world’s most fragile treasure. That delicate grasp made a soft landing in her nephew’s fluffy hair. Running through it like fish in a river.

Peter squeezed her tighter from where his tiny arms wrapped around May’s neck in a weak imitation of a vice-like hold. May was so reminded of the way she used to cling to Mary when they were only slightly bigger than Peter. May had been so shy, but Mary was a bright array of confidence that glimmered every light in the spectrum with her intensity. May wondered if Peter would inherit her best friend’s bright glow; her little nephew who was practically a fading candle at the moment.

Ben stood next to her; his anguish at his younger brother’s death aging him quicker than any god’s curse. He made no move to comfort May or Peter, nor did she want him to. Her husband had lost his brother, and she thought Ben should take time to work through it as she knew he would never be able to fully move past his loss. One can’t move past this type of loss; the scar can fade deep into the very bone marrow of your body, but it will always remain a faded pale white line in your flesh. A line you will trace when you think no one can see; a little pale white line that ripped a hole into your very soul. May had one too, but she covered her fresh scar with a bandage.

In the protective cradle of her arms, Peter let out a quiet sob that would surely echo in May’s ears for years to come. “I want mom and dad. Why did they leave?” His normally squeaky voice was raspy and scratched from the sharp claws of his grief. Peter lifted his head and stared at May’s tear-stained face; until she had to look away from the sun and into her nephew’s messy red face.

Under his eyes was puffy pink skin from non-stop crying. But Peter’s eyes, oh his eyes were a melting pot of honey brown gone muddy with rain. Recognition sparked like the embers in Mary’s eyes: her eyes. Peter had his mother’s eyes.

So with a smile made from honey and mud, May said in a croon, “they didn’t want to; they didn’t choose to.”

Peter’s honey-brown eyes watered again (May had thought he cried himself out, she thought wrong), and he immediately burrowed into the crook of her neck. 

For now, Peter would cling to her for comfort. May would never admit so (she was an adult she had to be strong in this situation), but she clung back just as tightly. Even though it was warm out, May found the warmth of her nephew in her arms far more appealing than the sun. The sun didn’t have her eyes. The sun wasn’t alive.

**Author's Note:**

> I was having trouble writing this because it was originally supposed to have a wholesome ending. The first half (what was posted) was this, and the second half which I kept reworking felt wrong. It was Peter bonding with May and Ben with bittersweet tones. I realized it didn't fit because this series is about a series of moments. This moment at the funeral is very separate from the moment where Peter, May, and Ben become a family (that's why this one is so short; it is half of what was originally planned). So that's the next part instead. The working title for this piece was "I Know Those Eyes" (like the song from The Count of Monte Cristo). Obviously, I was inspired by that song and by "You are My Sunshine". Please give me feedback, I want to know if I should keep going or not.


End file.
